(no subject)

[notinthebook]

 She'd taken an early shift today, which meant that when she got home, Mary Margaret was still at school and so was Henry and that meant that she actually got to take a leisurely shower and nap for the first time in about five years.  When she comes in through the door in the linen closet, pulling a comfy long black cardigan over an even comfier thin black tank top, all she's looking for is the perfect cup of coffee to round out her day.

She's not expecting the napkin that comes with it, and pulls a petulant face at the message written there.

"Seriously?  I haven't tended bar in forever, and I barely know half of what you've got back there.  Plus, I bet the tips are terrible."

Another napkin, another frown, but she just balls it up and tosses it into a trash can before sliding over the bartop to land with a sullen thump on the other side, taking a second to think before putting up her specials.

$3 Draft
$4 Shots
$5 Cocktails

Hot chocolate or coffee $1

"Can I drink my coffee now?"

One last napkin, and she snorts a laugh before tossing that one, too, and tucking a bar towel into a belt loop as she waits for her first customer.  "Just like the good old days."


[Tiny tag: Emma Swan, Sam Anders]

ETA: BRB, dinner.  Back soon!

Calling slowtimes for bed!  Will pick them up tomorrow.  Post is open til it scrolls.

Comments

[the_fairest]

"Well." There's a small smile. "I certainly wasn't expecting this."

[notinthebook]

"You and me both."

She rolls her eyes as she wipes off her hands after washing out a couple of pint glasses, but there's an edge of a smile there.

"So." Tipping her head, she gives Mary Margaret her best bartender grin, adds an air of exaggerated professionalism.

"What can I get you?"

[the_fairest]

"Surprise me." She settles on a stool, still smiling.

She can be a little brave and willing for Emma at least, right?

[notinthebook]

That gets a real smile, even if it's a little smaller, and Emma nods, grabs a bottle and a tumbler, scooping up some ice in the glass. She pours a generous amount of the Baileys over it, and slides it over with a napkin.

Mary Margaret's got a sweet tooth, and she doesn't need to prove anything to Emma. She's already seen her friend be a whole lot braver with way more than just a drink.

"How was school?"

[the_fairest]

Mary Margaret pulled the glass closer with a quiet thanks, making sure not to lose the napkin as she did so. "The test over photosynthesis was today."

[cbucsrule]

"Hey, man." He runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat before looking up at the pretty blonde behind the bar. If he'd seen her first, he might have reworked his strategy but luckily he's pretty godsdamn good at improvising and going with the flow.

"Or... hey, pretty lady I don't know. We oughtta fix that, don't you think?" She gets a little laugh from him, just a little one, nothing self-effacing about it. If he can't be confident chatting to a woman, then he oughtta just pack it in.

Not that he has anywhere else to go.

He offers his hand for a shake. "I'm Sam. What've you got on draft?"

[notinthebook]

"Hey."

Thumbs in her back pockets, she considers him from her spot behind the bar: killer smile, great arms, and seems friendly enough.

Her own smile widens at that little laugh. "Well, you know how it is. Get to know your bartender and you'll never go thirsty or pay full price."

He's got a good shake, too, though his hand kind of dwarfs hers. "Emma Swan. And, well, hell, what doesn't this place have?" Leaning back, she considers the taps handy. "Just from here I can see, uh...Sam Adams, looks like Summer Ale, Smutty Nose, Otter Creek...must be the New England part of the bar."

Or she'd picked those taps because they're the ones she knows. A little further down there's another bunch of taps with logos she doesn't even recognize. "And one that looks like it's got to be the multiversal equivalent of Bud Light. I guess that crap really is everywhere."

[cbucsrule]

Bud Light isn't a drink he knows, but there's this shit (and he does mean shit) on the colonies that everyone drinks when they can't get anything else. It's no stretch to guess her Bud Light is the equivalent of that.

"Gotta say, I like how you think." He was friends with bartenders all over the colonies and never paid. Most of it wasn't due to his winning smile and innate good looks, though. Just a perk of playing pro ball. "Who in their mind would want to drink the shit beer when you've got something there that sounds like it's almost named after me. It'd be a crime if I didn't tell you to hit me up for a glass of the Sam Adams."

Why the frak not. Picon Ale can still be his main squeeze, and it doesn't even have to get jealous when he tries something else on the side. What it won't know can't possibly hurt it.

Handshakes and intros all done, he leans back just enough to take in the view. "Emma Swan. Pretty name. Where are you from?"

[notinthebook]

"You've got good taste, Sam. That's practically poetic."

Pulling a pint glass from under the bar, she gives it a spritz of water and takes it on over to the taps, knocking the familiar pale wood forward and tipping the glass so it doesn't foam up. He gets a glance from between the taps -- man, that smile of his is working overtime, but it looks genuine.

"Thanks. Picked it out all by myself," she jokes, grabbing a coaster and setting the foaming ale down in front of him. It smells a little like lemon and a little like hops and like this last summer spent in Boston, trying to avoid the heat in any little bar she could find.

"Right now? Little town called Storybrooke. In Maine. Uh, the USA, on Earth? I never know where to quit with introductions here." Reaching for her coffee, she grins at him.

"You?"

[gorgonfondness]

It seems like Mia always has some sort of work with her whenever she encounters Emma. With the school year over, however, she's quite sparse (though still very pregnant).

"Evening, Emma," she greets, working some slight magic to make a more prenatal-friendly barstool for herself. "Roped into bartending, I see."

[notinthebook]

"She doesn't take no for an answer, does she?"

There's a little of resigned affection in her voice, though: Emma's starting to get used to how things work around here. "What can I get you, Mia? You're looking good, by the way."

Super pregnant, but that's good, right?

[gorgonfondness]

"Nope," she agrees with a shake of her head and a smile. "And a hot chocolate would be nice, thank you."

She gives a soft scoff-laugh.

"You're being generous. But I'm not as crazy antsy as I was with Cepheus, so that's probably good."

Antsy but not crazy antsy.

"Are you growing more accustomed to Milliways?"

[notinthebook]

"Coming right up."

She's got a little pot of it on a burner out here, kept on a low heat, and she grabs a cup and saucer, pours the thick drinking chocolate out with a careful hand, adds a dollop of whipped cream before handing it over. "Do you like cinnamon on it?"

She'd almost put it on just out of habit, but her hand pauses above the white puff of cream.

"Yeah. I mean, I think so. It's not like it's a place that'll stop surprising you, you know? But I've met some people. Even went to a different world once."

[not_his_pa]

William's day has felt very long as his elbow is still sore and that makes doing what he needs to do take longer.

When he finds the Bar, he smiles as this means some time to not do too much. The specials look good too, "Could I get a hot chocolate, ma'am?"

[notinthebook]

"Hey. It's William, right?"

The cowboy who's taking care of his family. Grinning as she pours out a cup of the drinking chocolate and hands it to him with a dollop of whipped cream and cinnamon on top, she shakes her head.

"It's just Emma, kid. How's it going?"

[not_his_pa]

Once he looks at her, he does realize they've met and nods, setting himself carefully down on a stool,

"Yeah, it is. Sorry, been a long day. Thanks."

[notinthebook]

She shrugs, rinsing out her coffee mug.

"No problem. I get days like that all the time. What made yours so long?"

[bloodyvirgo]

There's a slightly luminescent and horned humanoid sidling up to one end of the bar. She looks a little drawn as she places a silent order to the Bar, and then a little stunned when nothing happens.

It's then that she looks around and notices Emma behind the bar.

"Oh. You're On Bartending Shift Right Now?"

[notinthebook]

"Uh."

She can't help staring, even if it's rude.

She's glowing.

Glowing.

That can't be healthy, right?

"Yeah, that's me. Emma. What can I grab for you?"

[bloodyvirgo]

Glowing, and let's not forget the fangs.

"Um..."

There's a visible moment of consideration, as she's found that some patrons can be a bit...squeamish about her dietary needs. She can ignore that for just a while longer, though.

"Behind that wall of bottles," she says, pointing. "There should be a green uh...cooler. May I have one of the bottles from in there, please?"

[notinthebook]

Yeah, let's not forget the fangs.

Or the horns.

Emma's eyes linger on those for a heartbeat too long.

"Right," she says, a little vaguely, before tearing her eyes away. "Behind the bottles, green cooler. Coming right up."

She goes, grateful for the slight reprieve, and hands the requested bottle over along with a coaster once she comes back.

"All yours."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael comes downstairs looking a bit ragged, but none the worse for wear. He's lost the baseball cap that was covering his head wounds and figures worst case scenario he has to explain his wounds - which is a lot easier than explaining why he's wearing a Yankees cap when doesn't care about baseball.

He sits at the end of the bar in jeans and plain white t-shirt (in better shape than the other one he has upstairs at least) with a crumpled piece of paper bearing the line: "Need Help?" in thick felt tip pen.

Then, after getting his bearings from behind his amber tinted shades, he looks up to see a vision behind the bar.

"Emma," he grins wide, "it's been a couple days."

[notinthebook]

"Hey," she says, with a grin to mirror his.

It's good to see him, and she heads over, ignoring the way her stomach knots.

It's really unfair that he can make a plain white tee look good.

"I didn't know you were still around," she says, leaning with her palms against the bartop, hair spilling loose down her back. "So." Tipping her head, she gives him a professionally winsome smile. It's like a joke, pretending she's the bartender and he's the customer, and she likes joking around with Michael.

"What can I get you?"

[luvs_yogurt]

"I told you," his smile stretches of it's own volition, eyes softening when she leans closer; "I'm being good and letting myself heal before getting back to work."

His voice is much better than before, but still has a little telltale rasp that might sound like he's been screaming recently and blew out his vocal chords.

"Coffee, please."

[notinthebook]

"Easy enough."

She ducks her head a little, like she's trying to see up past those sunglasses, but it's just a little game and she's still grinning when she turns away to pour a fresh cup from the pot steaming on the back counter.

That grin's even still there when she sets the mug down in front of him on a cardboard coaster, adds a little pot of cream and a container of sugars. "You look better. Less toasted."

Still a little pink, maybe, like he's getting over a sunburn, but considering his hometown, that's not going to seem weird to anyone. "Did you get any exploring in?"